


Postcards and parcels

by queen_ypolita



Category: The Charioteer - Renault
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Challenge Response, Gen, distressing news
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-30
Updated: 2008-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_ypolita/pseuds/queen_ypolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a dark house Laurie goes through his post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postcards and parcels

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying out different versions of this story for a long time but this version, written fairly quickly as the deadline was approaching, grew out of the shadows and dark in the prompt (even if it's not Halloween in the fic). Written for the [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/profile)[**maryrenaultfics**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/) [Spooky Story Halloween Event](http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/230011.html). The prompt was "Shadows in the Dark".

It was always dark in the hall in Mrs Williams's house as light bulbs had been removed from the hall the staircase. But there was a lamp on the small table on which she put the post, and in the nearly two weeks Laurie had lived in the small attic bedroom he had learnt to make his way from the door to the table in complete darkness.

The light, when he switched it on, was dim, only just enough for him to make out the names on the small pile of letters and parcels on the table. There were two items for him: a postcard from Ralph and a parcel with a return address in London in handwriting he thought was vaguely familiar.

He switched the light off and started making his way up the creaky, narrow stairs. Although he was better with stairs than he had been when he was discharged from hospital, Mrs Williams's stairs were worse than most – the carpet was loose in several places and some of the steps were very uneven. But he wouldn't have to deal with the stairs much longer, he would be moving into his college at the end of the week for the start of the term.

He had just started on the second flight of stairs when the sound of a door opening somewhere else in the house made him jump.

Finally he was up in his room. He set his books and notes and the post on the narrow bed while he hung his coat and turned on the light. He sat down in the rickety armchair and read Ralph's postcard. Ralph had finished his training at the station in Bristow just before Christmas and had been waiting to hear what he would be doing next. Then a trainer in Liverpool had been killed, a trainer from Ralph's station asked to transfer there to keep things running. Ralph had been sent north to assist him just after New Year. Laurie had had a couple of letters from him since then, the message on the postcard apologised for not having enough time for a proper letter, as there was so much to do.

It had not been easy to say good-bye to Ralph. Laurie had spent a couple of days in Oxford in December, meeting his new tutor, discussing the work he would have to do to prepare before the start of the term, looking for books he needed. The few weeks after his discharge felt very distant now. Those weeks had been good times; he had been living with Ralph, reading and making notes during the day, spending the evenings with Ralph. He hadn't been able to think of a good enough excuse to avoid spending Christmas with his mother and Straike. They had all been very civil but the festivities lacked the feel of family Christmases he remembered from the years before the war. It had been a relief to return to Bristow but it had been only to hear Ralph's news and part. He had been planning to stay a little longer in Bristow but with Ralph gone had preferred to come up to Oxford, find a temporary place to stay with an old friend of his Aunt Olive, and focus on his reading.

He read the short message again before putting the postcard aside and turning his attention to the parcel. He gave up on his attempts to recognise the handwriting and unwrapped the parcel instead. Inside, he found two books and a letter. He unfolded the letter and started to read.

It was from Dave and he started by apologising for the news he had. Andrew was dead; he had been involved in a traffic accident.

Laurie stared at the page for several minutes without taking it in. He had known it had to be bad news about Andrew the moment his old copy of The Phaedrus had fallen from the folds of the brown paper. He closed his eyes and let the letter, the wrapping paper and the books fall on to the floor.

He must have fallen asleep in the chair because the next thing he knew was a knock on the door and he got up to open it. It was the nurse from the room under his, bringing back a book she had borrowed. He made polite conversation for a couple of minutes before she went.

The shape on the floor startled him when he turned as he had forgotten about the discarded books and wrapping paper that had fallen down and formed an oddly-shaped bundle there. Slowly he bent down to pick up the books and put them neatly on the bedside table. The other book he didn't recognise. It was clearly something old and treasured and he wondered why Dave had sent it. He unfolded the letter again and found the explanation – Dave said it was a book he had got from a friend in 1918 who had meant well, and he had shared it with Andrew recently. And somehow, Dave wrote, it felt right, that both books should go to someone who understood why they had been given to Andrew. He lay down on the bed and read a random page, then another.

When he finally slept that night, his dreams were full of crashing cars in a dark nightmare city, ships going down in the darkness of the sea.


End file.
